


Golden

by Teland



Category: due South
Genre: Baby's First Piss-Play, Established Relationship, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Romance, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-23
Updated: 1999-09-23
Packaged: 2020-12-30 19:27:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21145217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teland/pseuds/Teland
Summary: Morning





	Golden

Te: So, Andre, what do you think of w/s?  
Andre: w/s?  
LaT: what's w/s?  
Te: Water sports. *grins evilly*  
Andre: Oh hehe  
Andre: Uhm... I dunno?  
LaT: Oh...Ray...still....needs...to learn how to swim......  
Katy: oh dear.....  
Katy: LOL  
Andre: *giggles*  
Te: *sniggering* Maria Maniaci and Anna warped my mind back in XF land...  
Andre: I think I would rather read about it, then actually *watch* it  
Te: And then the Spike did it some more... and, well, I just have   
this image of Fraser nude and kneeling in Ray's shower stall, cuffed to the   
water-spotted fixtures, tense and obviously aching with arousal...  
Andre: *WHIMPER*  
LaT: [whimpering....Te.....please.....write....this. you have a willing audience.]  
Te: He can't believe Ray has agreed to this.  
Katy: Oh yes. Have eyes, will read  
Te: The cuff on his right wrist is just a little too tight, though,   
and he can feel the tile digging unnaturally regular patterns into his knees,   
so it must be real.

He's really here, and Ray is... he can hear Ray outside of   
the bathroom, doing whatever it is he needs to do to   
prepare himself for... this. For this.

Oh, God, Fraser feels his heart may very well burst from  
this. The fear, the shame, the absolute love Ray must   
have for him. 

To do this.

Of course, it had been terribly difficult -- almost   
impossible -- to ask, to open himself up for the   
sort of rejection he hadn't feared since before   
they'd ever even kissed. But he had, and he had   
watched the request steal over Ray's mind. 

Ray's eyes have always been immensely, terrifyingly   
clear and Fraser knew -- *knew* -- he'd been wondering   
about all the times they'd walked into a mens' room   
together. All the times Ray had gone in by   
himself. 

Every supposedly casual morning after loving,   
with Fraser catching Ray's reflection in the   
bright blade of his straight razor.

Ray had never been and would never be a   
morning person, so Fraser probably hadn't   
needed to resort to such subterfuge in order   
to observe Ray having his typical long   
morning urination, but some things went   
beyond expediency to necessity.

Many, many of those things involved Ray. Ray  
smiling, laughing, arguing, coming... pissing   
one long, steady stream into the pristine   
porcelain bowl. Ray's long, thin cock in his fist,   
illusorily hard. 

Blond stubble and lengths and lengths of lean,  
hard muscle on display. Every morning for   
months, fantasies spiraling into long shameful   
afternoons of sentry duty or paperwork that   
just left his mind dangerously idle and prone   
to thoughts of himself, on his knees... 

God, yes, always on his knees, just like now and   
Ray hadn't promised but every word he spoke   
was a promise and Fraser would not, would   
*not* fear now.

But the sound of his handcuffs scraping back   
and forth, back and forth on the metal fixtures   
belies all shows of confidence. Fraser is   
shaking, and his nipples have thorned with   
as much apprehension as arousal. His testicles   
hover on the edge of trying to crawl back into   
his body for more than one reason, his cock is   
already drooling, hungry for everything,   
anything at all, but mostly just this one thing...

Fraser hits his head against the wall of the   
shower four, perhaps five times and squeezes  
his eyes shut.

Breathes deep of acrid sweat and incipient   
mildew. 

Presses his cheek into the ghost of throbbing  
velvet heat and almost, almost doesn't feel  
the chill in the air. Last night he had not been   
able to let Ray be after his first orgasm, not   
even for five minutes, and had brought him   
to another with his mouth. With his whole  
body. And after Ray had asked him why, and   
of course he had answered. Of course.

Stammering, blushing, and so, so hard he   
couldn't see anything but the lurid red-hazed  
flashes of Ray's flesh, couldn't hear anything   
but the cracked moans he kept biting off into  
his lips and tongue.

And finally, incredibly, Ray had whispered "I   
will," and then guided Fraser's *hurting* cock   
inside him where it was close and warm and   
*Ray* and it hadn't taken long, no, not long at  
all.

When he'd woke Ray had been waiting for  
him, furthering the unreality.

Waiting with a gentle smile and knife-flashing  
handcuffs and a hand for him to rise, and a  
tug for him to obey.

And now the morning is aging and he is here   
and Ray is here and oh, for a moment he is   
utterly unsure which sense it was that   
alerted him to the other man's presence.  
When the moment passes, Fraser opens his   
eyes, feasts upon the naked form before him   
and no longer cares about anything but   
*now*.

The hair on Ray's legs is just this side of   
blond. The flesh is pale with insufficient   
sunshine, yet with a hint of golden there, too.   
Fraser revels in the way he must crane his  
neck to see above the shallow bowls of Ray's   
pelvis.

Fraser does not look higher than the other   
man's collarbone.

Fraser is shaking.

"Are you ready?"

He swallows and hears a click, the scraping rattle   
of the cuffs, his own pounding heart and "yes..."

Light, brittle chuckle. "Easy there, Frase, I... uh...   
I haven't done this before."

"I know. Just... please..." And he hates himself for   
his inability to remain coherent even using just   
monosyllables but he can't manage any more   
than that.

One hand brushes over his cheek, fingers card   
restlessly into his hair, almost roughly. The   
motion tilts his head back again for just a   
perilous moment that shows him Ray's lovely,  
slightly bruised expanse of throat. Oh, he asks  
so much of Ray and then he just took anyway   
and he could not bear to imagine a day when   
Ray said no...

"Are you really sure about this? You want me to...   
you really want me to?"

*I disgust him.* "Please, Ray... oh, please..." His   
mouth is a traitor and he thanks God for it.

"Shh, shh, babe, I said I would, right?"

Fraser pushes back and up into the hand in his   
hair and listens to Ray's breath catch.

"This really turns you on, doesn't it..." It isn't   
a question. "God, I never even really thought   
about this stuff. Guess I shoulda maybe taken   
that stint in Vice, hunh? Those guys are just   
way too tense, though..." Shaky breath. "Right,  
I'm babbling. God, Frase, just tell me you want it,   
OK? I need to hear it."

"I want it, Ray. I want it from you. Only you.   
Always you Ray *please* --"

The hand covers Fraser's mouth before he can   
begin to truly babble "Oh, that's... that's real   
good. Too good. Way too good. Gotta calm down  
a little 'cause you know I can't really piss... I   
mean... you didn't shave this morning."

Fraser nods at the small outburst, eyelids  
fluttering at the feel of his lips brushing Ray's  
calloused fingers again and again...

"Your skin still looks so... creamy. Like it does.   
But it's shadowed, too. I like that. I like you   
that way. Do you know what way?"

Fraser shakes his head, gazes unsteadily at Ray's   
flexing abdomen, but no lower.

"Dirty, Frase." And the first splash hits him, brands  
him on his solar plexus and burns into four   
distinct streams. "Dirty."

Another splash, just left of his nipple and Ray   
pushes Fraser's head further back, perhaps for   
leverage or perhaps just because and --

"Oh this is gonna be quick you gotta tell me   
where you want it --" 

But he forgets to move his hand and Fraser   
couldn't have answered anyway, couldn't have   
spoken beyond the heat and slick and ammonia   
and salt and tang *it's the sea* and the   
perfectly rendered image of how they would   
appear to the perfectly placed camera:

One dark haired man on his knees, twisted into a  
glyph of wanting satisfied, up into the stream of   
another man's offering and aggression, all easy  
stance and natural process *transformed* into   
exactly what he needs. Fraser bucks into the air,   
into the drops and streamlets that make their way  
to his groin until suddenly the entirety is directed   
there.

Hot, pounding his abdomen and cock and he   
slams his thighs up and closer together, heedless  
of the inevitable decrease in balance. He will not let   
any of this gift go until he has taken all of it he   
can.

"Ahhh... you don't even... fuck, it's going, Frase..."

And it's the irrational panic of *ending* that   
triggers his jerking, flexing orgasm. He digs his   
teeth into the side of Ray's palm but the other   
man never moves, and does not stop until   
Fraser is too far gone to truly notice.

Long minutes pass before he begins to come   
back to himself... Ray has uncuffed him, but has  
not yet turned on the shower. The scent of what   
was done, of what it meant to Fraser gets higher   
and higher in Fraser's mind with each breath.

Ray is still holding his face.

In the end, Fraser surrenders the dream of sanity.   
And leans in to give thanks.

end.


End file.
